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  • When I was a little girl, Good Friday was the ONLY day on which we ate Hot Cross Buns.

    It was a very big treaty thing in our household, to have something different for breakfast.

    We lived in a village by the sea in West Sussex, on the South Coast of England, called Elmer Sands. I cannot recall if Elmer had any shops or not....I know we piled into my Mother's old bomb of a car to get to school and to go shopping.
    To a neighbouring village called Felpham.

    It was Easter time....the school holidays were upon us. Spring, most definitely, had not sprung, that Easter in 1975.
    Winter was late in leaving that year. So late, in fact, that it was snowing. On the south coast of England, in the heart of Blake's green and pleasant land, it was snowing in April.

    But it was Maundy Thursday, and we needed Hot Cross Buns!

    So my mother, my little brother, and my oldest brother all piled into the car. I may have the arrangements of siblings wrong here - there may have been even more of us squashed into that car? From memory it was an old Morris 1100, although I may be wrong. (My father was a motor enthusiast with five children and expensive school fees...my Mum's cars varied from cheap wreck to ...cheap wreck.)

    Off we went, mittened and scarved up.

    My elder brother would have done the dash and run, in the snow, to the bakery. A brown paper bag containing more than a bakers dozen of warm hot cross buns were with us, steaming up the car.

    And for home we set.

    And got stuck in a drift. A deep snow drift.

    Very stuck.

    So stuck that no one could get us out for hours.

    Obviously, 1975 was not within the era of mobile phones. I am not even sure if the village contained a public telephone box to 'phone my father.
    But we were on the main road, we would just while away the hours playing eye spy, waiting for him to pass us as he drove home from his office.

    And when we got hungry, my brother would rip open that bag of hot cross buns again, and we would nibble on them in the fug of that car.
    We nibbled so much, all of us, on those delicious hot cross buns, that we had to bundle out of the car again, to get MORE from the bakery. And it wasn't even Good Friday!

    38 tears later, I am reminiscing over too many hot cross buns with...too many hot cross buns.
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